The Fault in Our Songs
by Metafours
Summary: Augustus visits Hazel in the hospital before they left for Amsterdam and of course, it's in Augustus's point of view . Rated T for cussing.


I pulled my hands from my face, rubbing my eyes immediately, as I stood up rigidly. No one was watching me in the waiting room. Hazel Grace's parents were glued together, arm in arm, asleep.

"Fuck," I muttered as the sharp pain stabbed my left side. I quickly glanced at her parents in hopes they didn't wake up or even shifted an inch. The only movement came from her father, who tilted his mouth open and allowed eruptions of snores to escape. The pain in my chest grew when I inhaled sharply.

The only person who was in the hallway was a nurse, his fingers running across the keyboard that sat on a cart of medical necessities – medication, bandages, extra cannulas, etc. – him eyes flickering at the computer screen in front of him.

I walked down the hallway slowly – for the sake from being caught – which actually wasn't a problem because the faster I moved my legs, or leg, the more the pain glowed on my left side and the center of my chest.

When I managed to make my way to her hospital room, I stood outside, my right palm pressed against the window. The only thing that separated from giving me the chance to be engulfed in the same air as Hazel Grace. My finger ran across the glass as I take a quick look at the nurse at my left.

He was watching me.

I dropped my eyes back to my hand against the glass window.

If the nurse walked down the hallway for just a few seconds, I could make my way into her room. It would obviously be better if the nurse left the hallway, into another room, to help another patient who needed the care at the moment.

I glanced at the nurse again.

He was walking towards my direction.

My heart raced for a couple of seconds out of nervousness.

What if he told me not to see Hazel Grace?

What if he called security? But why would a nurse call security? I could not even make my way toward the waiting room that only sat a few yards away without the feeling of my organs getting slapped by a hand spiked with needles.

The nurse stood by me and pointed at Hazel Grace. "Is she your girlfriend?" he asked.

I shrugged lightly. "You can say that," I answered. I couldn't contain the smile that began to form on my face. Not once has anyone called Hazel Grace my "girlfriend" because we haven't known each other that long, and it felt amazing that someone did.

"You do know that you can't go in," he pointed out.

Though I already knew that, I shook my head. "It would be my privilege to see her," I admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. "It's just so there's no way of Hazel getting an infection." Then he walked away, the squeaks of his sneakers echoing. He looked into the hospital room next to Hazel Grace's room.

I checked to make sure his back was turned to me. I curled my fingers around the silver door knob, turning it ever so slightly. I only left a few inches of air for me to squeeze in. I gently clicked the door shut, closing the blinds at the window that exposed the hallway with one arm when the door was shut.

I dragged the small cushioned chair from the back next to her and took her small hand under mine. I ran my thumb over her dark blue, almost black-polished nails.

Her hair was in a mess, but I didn't care. It was still Hazel Grace with messy or straight hair. It was still Hazel Grace with or without morphine. It was still Hazel Grace under the hospital gown.

A tube that connected to her chest sucked out amber-colored liquid from her lungs.

My body shuttered at the look of the substance running through the tube and into a small container.

The only thing that filled the silence between Hazel Grace and me was the beeping of the heart monitor. A single, inaudible beat from her very heart every three seconds. And each heartbeat was what preserved her life.

If she died right here, then we would both be going the same places. I wouldn't have to tell her myself that I would be leaving the surface of the earth. I kind of liked the fact that I will be leaving this world as a mark on Hazel Grace's life. It won't be a scar. But I didn't want to leave her. Not yet, at least.

A tear stung my eyes as I thought about leaving her.

"If I left," I whispered shakily, "what would you do, Hazel Grace?" I cupped my other hand over my mouth to overthrow any ways of sobbing right in front of her.

I bit my lower lip as I looked up into the ceiling, though there was not much to look at besides the blandness of the thin ceiling. My breathing trembled. "Please," I begged as the tears streaked down my cheeks, "God, just please let her live."

I felt all of the emotions that I had bottled up in my chest exploded into those words because the hand around Hazel Grace's began to shudder. I pulled my hand away in fear that I will crush her delicate hand into fragments. "I've never wanted anything more than to have her live." I shook my head.

It was no use. The beeps began to slow down for a few seconds. After that pause of her "normal" breathing pattern, her heart began its usual beats of one beat every three seconds.

_God, that better not be a sign that she's going to die soon_, I pleaded in my head.

"PLEASE, DAMMIT!" I yelled. It sounded nothing like me, not even close. Like something between a shout and a cry and a plead. I didn't know what else to describe it because never in my life have I yelled like that. I took deep breaths to suppress the pain in my sides and chest and allowed the tears on my chees to dry.

When my hands finally stopped quivering and my voice has settled down, I cupped the palm of my hands around every inch of her hand, from the finely cut nails to her knuckles, down the back of her hand and her palm.

I sighed. "I'll be leaving soon," I said. "Not for some 'quick trip to a doctor's appointment' leaving. I mean…'finding out that heaven existed and seeing houses made of clouds exist and knowing how Jesus actually looks like – maybe He doesn't have long hair or a beard and a deep, booming voice like everyone believes He does – and telling Jesus that it's dangerous to keep kids in His heart and finally having the capability to walk with both of my legs' leaving. I'm also terrified of what it would be like: heaven, I mean. And it's been a privilege to be a significant portion of your life." I kissed her cheek then leaned back a little, heaving breaths, because the same piercing pain grew on my right side.

"I've always wanted to make a mark in this world. And not that long ago, I finally had become conscious that I don't require the world to make that mark because all I needed was you noticing." I swallowed hard. "I feel like the roller coaster that only goes up is going down a little, maybe even in loops. I just hope you'd be in the seat next to me throughout the ride, Hazel Grace."

I struggled to push the chair closer to the side so my leg was tucked under the railings of the hospital bed. I brought my lips close to her face and whispered a few words from a song that had been stuck in my head:

_I want you forever_

_Forever and always_

_Please just remember, even if I'm not there_

_I'll always love you forever and always_

I drew my head back and heaved a few breaths.

"You're not supposed to be in here," man behind me said.

I tilted my head to my right, just far enough to see him. It was the same nurse that asked me if Hazel Grace was my girlfriend. I stood up sluggishly, grimacing as I get continuously gouged on my chest by my own body. "My apologies," I said lowly with a smile. "I just wanted to see her with my very eyes, without the glass window as the barrier between our bodies, for at least a minute."

He gestured me to walk out. "Well, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave."

I nodded. I walked to the waiting room, where Hazel Grace's parents were still sleeping.

The least I could do during those few minutes with Hazel Grace unable to acknowledge my own existence – or the existence of her own surroundings for that matter – was to hold her hand. But I felt that I went too far, over the moon, by informing her that I will be leaving soon. Even though she was basically unconscious, the stabbing in my chest lightened up a little as the thousand-pound weight was lifted. But I would have to inform her parents sooner or later.

It took a few seconds for me to sit on the chair in the waiting room. I slapped my hands on my face so no one knew of my crying.

_I'm not ready_, a weak voice in my head repeated. I knew I had to build up the courage to be ready, but I just couldn't. I don't want to see any tears or hear any cries from her because that would mean I left a _scar_ in her life. And I have never intended on leaving scars on anyone.

* * *

**Boredom lead me to write this. And Parachute. This is like the cheesiest thing I wrote. The song is "Forever and Always" by Parachute. I was listening to this song with my sister (I told her to read the book) and we listened to this song, which sprung up the thought of Augustus and Hazel.**


End file.
